Feet Don't Fail Me Now
by CoutureWriting
Summary: Arìa is Queen Arìaquis of Par Célare, a small island off the coast of Gondor. Elected by the College of Nobles in an elective monarchy to rule for the rest of her natural life, when a certain Prince of Mirkwood throws her life off-course forever.
1. Queen Arìaquis

Queen Arìaquis pulled her dressing robe tighter around her body as she stepped out onto the balcony that connected to her chambers. It was her sixth day in power, after being elected Queen of Par Célare by the College of Nobles. She stared out at the prosperous capital from her room in the Palace. It was early, but the streets were already bustling with markets and children.

She was only seventeen, but it was tradition for Par Célare to always elect a young woman to rule until her death. Her predecessor had been fourteen when she ascended to the throne, and had only died two weeks before Arìaquis had been selected. Par Célare was beautiful – a small but densely populated island off the coast of Gondor. It had remained largely untouched during the War of the Ring, and now that peace had spread throughout the lands of Middle Earth, its beautiful solidarity had only increased.

"Your Highness," Nabé called from where she stood in the bedroom. "Your guests are arriving this morning. Are you ready to dress?"

She turned and stepped inside, sending her First Handmaiden a smile. "I am ready," she said.

Nabé set about helping her undress and then step into a beautiful gown of gold and white. She pulled her hair back and pinned it loosely to the back of her head, so that her curls, stained golden by the sun, tumbled down her back.

Arìa glanced apprehensively at the intricate gold wreath that sat on its pedestal. It was heavy, and often hurt her neck when she wore it, but tradition necessitated that she don it when royal visitors arrived at the Palace, and, if her Advisor, Lord Aruel's communication were correct, she would be welcoming multiple royals this morning, King Elessar among them.

"It must be worn, your Highness," said Nabé regretfully, as she lifted it and placed it upon Arìa's head gently. "I'm sure you will be able to remove it for the luncheon."

"I hope so," she said with an unamused laugh. "If not, I fear I shall burn all the literature that documents what is expected of me at future functions."

Nabé laughed. "You are ready, your Highness," she told her Queen with an assuring glance at her in the mirror. "Your guests will be so overcome by your grace and beauty that they will think of nothing else."

Arìa laughed disbelievingly. "I doubt it."

Nabé escorted her from her chambers, and down the long hallway, which was adorned with rich tapestries depicting the history of Par Célare and the crowning of each of its Queens. Nabé continued to send her reassuring smiles every now and then, and followed her down the stairs to the Queen's Hall.

They walked together to Arìa's throne, where she sat, and Nabé stood at her right side faithfully, as they walked the arrival of her other six Handmaidens, who took their places about the throne.

"How are you this morning, your Highness?" asked Lord Aruel when he entered the room. He knelt at her feet and kissed her hand.

"I am perfectly well, my Lord," she said, holding herself tall to prove that the weight of the wreath or the role was not unbecoming to her. "Our guests, have they arrived?"

He nodded. "I will have them brought in for you."

"Thank you," she said serenely.

She watched him leave and turned to Nabé, who gave her arm an encouraging squeeze and smiled.

"I'm nervous," she confessed. "This is my first official duty after coronation. What if I can't do it?"

"That's not possible, your Highness," said Nabé confidently. "They're men; just don't let them get the better of you. Don't feel you have to submit to them because of that. Par Célare has a long history of beautiful, powerful women ruling it, and you are one of those. Do not forget."

"Thank you, Nabé," she smiled at her First Handmaiden.

Aruel reappeared.

"Your Royal Highness, I introduce to you King Elessar of Gondor and Arnor and his wife, Queen Arwen," he announced.

Arìa watched in interest as a darkly handsome man and his beautiful Elven wife appeared in the hall. They both bowed low to her and stood in wait.

"King Éomer of Rohan," Aruel announced.

A tall, stocky man with a kind, fierce face entered the hall and took his place beside Elessar, bowing to Arìa humbly.

"Prince Faramir of Ithilien and his wife Éowyn, the White Lady of Ithilien," continued Aruel.

A handsome man with bronze hair and beautiful eyes entered, a pale, fair woman on his arm. They both smiled at Arìa and bowed low before turning in wait for their final companion.

"Prince Legolas of Mirkwood and his companion, Gimli," said Aruel.

This time, Arìa was inexplicably curious. King Elessar had brought an Elven Prince with him? She started as the last member of their party entered the Hall. He walked with more grace than Queen Arwen, and he was fairer in looks. He had a head of pearlescent hair and wide, blue eyes that shone with compassion and curiosity. He bowed lowest of them all, and met her cautious gaze when he looked up. Arìa noticed the redheaded dwarf beside him.

She stood. "Welcome, friends from distant lands," she addressed them. "Welcome to Par Célare, and welcome to the Royal Palace. I hope your journey was not too uncomfortable, nor too inconvenient. It has always been my great wish to meet the royalty of the mainland."

"Your hospitality is kind," Elessar spoke first. "Your late Queen's invitation was coveted among our lands. We are sorry to hear of her passing."

Arìa bowed her head. "I, too, am greatly grieved. Would you do me the honour of joining myself for luncheon? I trust that you are hungry from your long travels?"

"Nothing would give us more pleasure," Queen Arwen replied, her long, dark hair framing a face that was breathtakingly beautiful. She looked radiant.

"Would you accompany me to the Dining Hall?" asked Arìa. "Nabé, see that everything is prepared for our guests, please."

Nabé nodded, and exited the room with more speed that Arìa knew she possessed. She led her guests leisurely out of the formal Queen's Hall and into the Dining Room adjacent to it, glancing back to send the King a smile.


	2. An Unlikely Prince

**GOSH, PEOPLE, REVIEW PLEASE. NOW. **

**Forgot the disclaimer and introduction and the like, and I apologise. This is fiction mostly about Arìa and Legolas, and their relationship. Review and let me know if you want a little background information on Par Célare while I'm at it and the whole Queen/election system. I've got it all written down already from when I was planning… Apart from that… Please, please read and review. I **_**can't**_** get better without help or encouragement. Thanks! **

**Also, if you'd like to know some of my inspiration, listen to the entire album of **_**Lungs**_** by Florence and the Machine.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings, but I do own Par Célare, Queen Arìaquis, Nabé, Aruel, etc. etc. **

* * *

><p>Legolas watched as Queen Arìaquis beckoned them to sit. He took a seat between Aragorn and Gimli, and glanced at the assortment of food that was laden on the table. It looked heavenly. Roast meats and vegetables, fresh fruits, golden mead and cheeses.<p>

"Please, friends, eat," she offered, gesturing to the mouth-watering food.

Éomer was the first to acknowledge the offer, piling his plate high with meat. She smiled thankfully at him as everybody else began to serve themselves.

Arìaquis, however, appeared content to watch them eat, only taking a few mouthfuls of bread when she wasn't busy laughing at Gimli's jokes. This gave Legolas an opportunity to truly admire her. Her beauty was not traditional; it was otherworldly. She was willowy, slender and lithe. Her hair was stained pale gold by the sun and after growing up on the island, her skin was kissed bronze. Her face was vulnerable due to her age, but was defiant and strong. Her eyes were a pale, violet blue, and her mouth was a little too large to be proportionately beautiful. Her imperfection was endearing, and Legolas was not accustomed to admiring human women.

"May I enquire as to the state of things in Gondor? My Advisors have informed me of the extensive reconstruction required after the war," she asked, addressing Aragorn.

He nodded sagely. "This is true, yes," he said slowly. "Minas Tirith has been completed, I'm proud to say, but the smaller communities in Gondor need attention. Upon my return, I endeavour to journey to them to offer support."

"That's very noble," said Arìa.

Arwen smiled and placed her hand on his hand comfortingly.

"What do you plan to do for Par Célare?" Legolas asked suddenly. "As a new Queen, you must have some idea of your future."

She turned on him and he was surprised by the astuteness in those young eyes. "Of course I have ideas. Getting them approved by the College of Nobles is another prospect entirely."

"Such as?" he prompted.

"Unity with all the lands of Middle Earth," she continued without a pause. "To mend the relationships with our brothers and sisters that were lost when we became so isolated."

"During the War," said Éomer. "You abandoned Middle Earth rather than offering support and chancing your own safety, yes?"

"Éomer, friend, you forget that Arìaquis was not Queen," said Legolas.

Éomer muttered something under his breath but did not argue.

"No," said Arìa, "I can understand King Éomer. I am disappointed that our people did not offer assistance in the fight to overthrow Sauron, and for that I am irrevocably sorry. It was not right."

"Does that satisfy you, Éomer?" asked Aragorn, attempting to lighten the mood with a soft chuckle.

"I apologise for asking at all, your Highness," said Legolas regretfully. He hadn't meant for Éomer to attack the poor girl.

She smiled wearily. "I need to grow accustomed to it," she said. "I'm going to be in power for the rest of my life, and I'm going to be asked plenty of hard questions."

"Your Highness, tell us about the surrounds of the Palace? We travelled too quickly, I would have liked to see more of the countryside," said Éowyn regretfully. "It certainly is beautiful … reminiscent of Rivendell, somehow. Everything is so green and alive."

Arìa couldn't help but smile in pride. "Thank you, my Lady," she said humbly. "I did not grow up here in the city, but in a small fishing village on the west coast. My mother and I travelled here after the death of my father so that she could work. She died shortly after, when the Queen accepted me as one of the orphans of Par Célare. I was clothed, fed and offered an education by the Palace."

"Do you have strong defences?" asked Éomer pointedly.

"I have spoken with my Advisors on this, but they maintain that Par Célare is a peaceful place," she murmured. "The late Queen was not interested in war, and so did not fund an army for us. I do not like to admit it, but we were defenceless."

Éomer looked shocked.

"Our men and boys are fishermen and farmers," Arìa continued. "If I gave them a sword and a shield they'd most likely try to plough fields with it. I will attempt to put forth a suggestion to the College of Nobles, but they are very adamant that we do not want to associate ourselves with violence."

"And leave your people unprotected?" Éomer demanded.

"It was the Queen's way," said Arìa defensively. "This is an Elective Monarchy. The people choose the Queen, her views and all."

"It kept them safe, didn't it?" Éowyn chided her brother. "Sauron didn't even bother with them because they posed no threat. They were not touched."

"Sauron's eye wandered," said Aragorn solemnly. "They would have come under threat when he'd captured the rest of Middle Earth."

Arìa rubbed her head, fatigued. "I am more tired than I thought. Would you excuse me for a short walk in the grounds? I have the most frightening headache. The servants will show you to your rooms."

The men stood while she slipped out of the room.

"Now you've upset the poor girl," said Éowyn with a sigh.

"Shall I go?" asked Legolas, still on his feet.

Aragorn gave him a sharp look and then nodded slowly. Legolas didn't need telling twice. He returned Aragorn's stare with a sage smile and left the room quickly.

He was thankful that the architecture of the Palace was relatively simple. He found the courtyard with ease and saw Arìaquis sitting at one of the benches by the roses, her straight back to him.

"Your Highness?" he asked. He didn't need to raise his voice. She turned.

"Oh, Prince Legolas, you needn't have come after me," she said slowly. "I simply need some fresh air… I feel so suffocated indoors."

He took the seat beside her. "I know," he said. "I travelled with Gimli and we explored the Glittering Caves at Helm's Deep. It was terrible."

She smiled. "But you're an Elf, of course you dislike being indoors and underground. I'm a _Queen_, I need to get used to it."

"You grew up as a girl in a fishing village," he said quietly.

"You were listening to that?" she asked disbelievingly.

"Of course."

"Can I tell you something?" she asked, looking nervously and earnestly into his eyes. She looked utterly vulnerable.

He paused and then nodded as she closed her eyes.

"I didn't want this," she whispered. "Any of it … the power, the riches, the jewels, the influence … I've only been Queen for six days and I hate it already. I can't quit, it's my duty for life."

He took her hand. It was slender and smooth. She stared at him.

"Surely, there must be some Queen who has left service before," he said.

"I think the fifth Queen did, but she was executed," said Arìa with a dry laugh. "I doubt they'd be so barbaric now, but it's almost unheard of for a Queen to step down. It's a life service. I am supposed to serve my country until death."

"You will find a way," Legolas reassured her.


End file.
